


Unpaired Socks

by StarlightDragon



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Curiosity, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Socks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:36:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6918511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightDragon/pseuds/StarlightDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgan is endlessly curious about Reid's collection of odd socks - and then the day comes that he decides to take matters into his own hands by pairing them all, which leads to some quite unexpected results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unpaired Socks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tabbystardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabbystardust/gifts).



> So tabbystardust on tumblr came up with this headcanon: What if, when Morgan and Reid start dating, Morgan starts wearing mismatched socks too? Like… every day they both pick one pair of socks and give one sock to the other so that they both have the same mismatched pair. [(original post)](http://tabbystardust.tumblr.com/post/144565534056)
> 
> I wrote the thing, I hope it lives up to expectations!!

Morgan can't even remember when he first noticed the socks. They've always just been a feature of Reid's personality, and not even one of the oddest ones, pun intended. Typically they're mostly hidden underneath sharp black suits and polished shoes, but just occasionally, Morgan will catch a glimpse. Reid will sit at his desk reading a case file and he'll prop his feet up on a nearby spare chair and his pant legs will ride up and Morgan will be able to see - one bright yellow sock, patterned with palm trees, and one plain dark purple sock. 

There never seems to be any particular reason for the combinations. It's as though Reid's just forgetful, as though his brain is far too busy with higher functions like proving mathematical theorems that scientists have struggled with for hundreds of years, to bother worrying about such trivial matters as what color his socks are. As long as he's wearing one on each foot, everything should be fine. 

Morgan imagines Reid's apartment - something he does far more often than he cares to admit - and he pictures a drawer filled to the brim with unpaired socks, pictures Reid waking up each morning looking adorable rubbing sleep out of his eyes with his hair sticking in all directions, grabbing the first two socks he can lay his hands on and wearing them no matter what they are.

There could be, he supposes, a mathematical sock formula. Given that Dr Spencer Reid owns one hundred and twenty-six distinct pairs of socks, and given that they are all unpaired and mixed entirely randomly in the sock drawer and selected without any consideration, what is the probability that Dr Reid will be wearing a matching pair of socks on any given day?

But Reid's the only person he could ask to solve that kind of math, and he doesn't want Reid to know about his obsession.

When Morgan and Reid finally get together (finally, _finally,_ after way too many months of pining) Morgan's fascination with Reid's sock collection doesn't diminish. If anything it gets worse, because now he gets to see the socks so much more often - it's not just a sneaky glimpse when Reid happens to move his leg just so, instead, it's the two of them spending a few hours in Morgan's apartment after work, Reid taking his shoes off at the door and plopping his feet in Morgan's lap as they watch TV so that Reid can see the one pale pink sock with a hole in the toe and the one blue and white striped sock.

Morgan himself always wears matching socks (even socks?) and after each load of laundry, he rolls them into perfect pairs, so that all he has to do in the mornings is select a color and he can be sure he's going to look professional. But he thinks that if he was the kind of person to just grab socks at random, he'd make sure they were all black, or at least all dark colors, so that when he dug them out of his drawer in the morning they'd at least have a fair chance of matching.

And that's when he starts to wonder if Reid's sock choices may not be as random as he originally thought.

Coincidentally enough, this realization comes not long before the two of them first spend the night together. 'Spend the night' is said in the most literal sense possible, because they still haven't taken their clothes off around each other (not even their socks) but it's late and they're both exhausted and Morgan really doesn't feel like driving home, so Reid gives him a pair of old, soft flannel pajamas to change into in the bathroom, and they cuddle up in Reid's bed and grab a few hours of sleep before they have to work.

In the morning, Morgan watches Reid. He tries really hard to pretend he's checking emails on his phone, but in actual fact his eyes are trained on his boyfriend as Reid ever so carefully selects one brown sock with a cat face on it and one bright red sock. 

_Why those specific socks?_ Morgan can't help but wonder as he showers, and then the subject is still on his mind in their case briefing later that day, which is just ridiculous really.

Reid's apartment is bigger than Morgan's and it's closer to the BAU too, so even though they spend nights at both places, the balance is definitely skewed towards Reid's. And every morning Morgan watches Reid choose his socks, and he tries to determine what exactly is going through Reid's head as he makes his decision. This is more interesting than a serial killer, more of a challenge. Morgan knows exactly how serial killers' minds operate, can track the thought process that they follow to choose their next victim, next weapon, next kill location - but Reid's socks remain a mystery.

It's frustrating in the way that only Reid can be; in the way that Morgan desperately wants to know more, and he's constantly thinking about it and searching for any way he can get more information.

"Morgan?" Reid mumbles sleepily one morning at around 5am, hours before they have to get up. Morgan just grunts in response.

"I have to go into work. They need me. Just me, so you stay here, sleep for as long as you like, entertain yourself. I'll be home soon as I can."

Morgan isn't great with words at this time in the morning, but he manages to mumble a "Good luck at work, pretty boy," before Reid kisses him gently on the lips and hurries out of the room.

Morgan rolls over, pressing his face into a pillow that smells  like Reid, and he tries to get back to sleep.

But after an hour he has to concede defeat. There's no way this is going to happen; the bed feels too big and airy without Reid, the massive comforter cold on Morgan's skin, no safe warmth pressed up against his side. He's never been in this bed alone before, and it's not right, and all of his senses are on edge, telling him to stay alert.

And there's only one thing on his mind, because it's always on his mind.

Alone at last, with the freedom to do whatever he wants, Morgan gets up and pads over to Reid's sock drawer. It's far bigger than anyone's sock drawer has a right to be, and just as Morgan predicted, it's crammed to the brim with every kind of sock he can possibly imagine, as well as many that should never have been allowed to exist in the first place.

For a long moment Morgan just stares, gaping - and then he sits down crosslegged on Reid's soft blue fluffy carpet, and he gets to work.

He lays out the socks on the floor, and every time he finds two that match, he rolls them up into a neat pair. Then he places them back in the drawer according to their dominant color so that the reds are with the reds, the blues with the blues and the greens with the greens, and the rainbow striped ones - well, Morgan's not even sure where those should go.

Organizing things by color should be Reid's thing, but with his socks it's _not_ , and Morgan finds it _maddening_.

When he starts work, it's still dark outside, but by the time he's finished it's fully light, sunlight streaming in through the slats in the blinds and shining onto the neat, tidy drawer. Amazingly, every sock has found its match, and there are none left over without a pair. Morgan can't help but be impressed that Reid gives no mind to the matching-ness of his socks and yet still somehow manages to never lose any. It's irony at its finest, or maybe it's just Reid being a superhuman level of amazing.

When Reid gets home later that afternoon, Morgan's curled on the couch with leftover Chinese food watching Extreme Makeover Home Edition, and he doesn't say anything about the socks. Reid curls up next to him and rests his head on Morgan's shoulder and they spend the rest of the day together, staying mostly quiet, just enjoying one another's presence.

It's the next morning before Reid realizes what had happened.

As usual, they wake up at the same time, and as usual, Reid is the first one out of bed to grab his clothes for the day and head into the shower. He chooses a suit, a purple work shirt, a grey cardigan and a bow tie, and then he opens the sock drawer.

"M-Morgan?"

Morgan can't miss the tremble in Reid's voice, or the way his eyes go wide with fear as he stares at the contents of the drawer, and Morgan immediately feels terrible. He should have warned him, should have known that having someone mess with his stuff would be enough to scare Reid.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I couldn't sleep yesterday morning and... it was a distraction, it kept my mind busy for a few hours. But I shouldn't have gone through your things, I should have asked, and you feel free to unpair them and wear your odd socks to your heart's content."

Reid's shoulders sag in relief. "Just so long as it was you."

"Yeah, baby, it was definitely me. Nothing to worry about. I'm sorry."

Reid picks up a pair of black socks with bright green polka dots, tossing them between his hands. "There's no point, though. I'm not going to suddenly start wearing paired socks. It wouldn't be right. It just gives me something extra to do in the mornings, unpairing them."

Morgan felels bad all over again, because he's well aware that Reid has enough on his mind already, and even though this might seem like a really small thing, it's still something extra that Reid shouldn't have to deal with. But he lies there and he watches Reid play with the balled up socks, frowning intently at them... and a thought occurs to Morgan. Possibly the dumbest, sappiest thought he's ever had, but a thought nonetheless.

He scrambles out of bed and crouches down next to Reid. "Pick a pair of socks. Just one pair. A matching pair."

Reid turns to face him, opening his mouth to speak.

"I'm not gonna ask you to _wear_ a matching pair," Morgan cuts in. "Just pick one."

Reid still looks confused, but he does as he's told, sorting through the meticulously arranged socks until he finds a pair with a honeycomb pattern. He holds them out and Morgan takes them. They're soft, as though they've never been worn before.

Morgan nods approvingly. "Good choice." Then he rummages too, searching until he finds the soft grey plaid pair he's looking for. He holds them up next to each other and smiles.

"We're about the same size, aren't we? So here's what's going to happen. Every day, I'm going to pick out a pair, and you're going to pick out a pair. And we'll each wear one half of each pair. So you and I will match each other, even if our left and right feet don't."

Reid just stares at him for a while, completely lost for words, a very rare occurrence. "B-but you... you wear ordinary socks," he protests eventually.

"I think I moved past being ordinary when I asked someone as extraordinary as you to be my boyfriend, don't you?" Morgan chuckles. Reid blushes.

"People might talk," Reid whispers.

Morgan shrugs, grinning now, unable to hide the excitement from his voice. "So let them talk. There's far worse things they could be saying about me than what socks I choose to wear. Besides... I kind of like the meaning behind it. You and I, individually, both of us are kind of a mess. We're human, we make mistakes, we don't really know what we're doing. We don't always make sense, even though other people may try to make sense of us. But together... we're good. We're a perfect pair."

Both the honeycomb socks and the plaid socks are knocked out of Morgan's hands as Reid grabs his face and kisses him, hard.

**Author's Note:**

> I exist on the internet at **casandsip.tumblr.com** \- my messaging is open to everyone, come say hi!!


End file.
